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Windsisters' Song
in the }} Book Text A local Dervin legend that tells how the Windsister harpies came to exist. In the long ago, when the djinn first came to the desert, there lived a band of sister-warriors whose leader was a beautiful and headstrong woman named Hadil. She had long black hair that fanned out in the wind behing her when she raced across the desert astride her horse. No one could catch Hadil in a race, until Makkar. Makkar was of the djinn and he challenged Hadil to a race. Being djinn, with the power of the sky at his command, he easily defeated her. And with the aura of his triumph around him, Hadil looked upon him and fell instantly and deeply in love. Makkar returned her feelings, as she was a great warrior and he valued her strength. As time passed, more djinn arrived from their distant Plane. They brought with them many objects which they considered trinkets, but which were of considerable value in the desert. "Where do these come from?" asked Hadil as Makkar draped her in brightly colored robes of a fabric finer than silk. "They are from my home," he said. To please Hadil, Makkar took on the form of a Dervin. He rode beside her into battles, admiring her prowess. Though Makkar could destroy any enemy at hand, Hadil preferred to follow the ways of her tribe. They raised clouds of choking dust with their horses' hooves, encircling their enemies. When the enemies were blinded and gathered together so tightly that they could not fight back, Hadil's tribe would circle them again and again, slicing them through with their scimitars until their enemies lay in a heap. Lesser folks would scavenge the bodies; Hadil would laugh and ride away, her hair flowing in the wind. Hadil dressed in the finest robes with Makkar' scimitar hung from her belt. Draped around her slender throat were strings of pearls and diamonds. A ring carved from a piece of lavender jade graced her hand. And still, Hadil demanded more from Makkar. "You love not me, but that which I give to you," he said one night. Hadil tossed her head. "You please me," she replied, her voice as soft as silk. "How can I help but love you when you bestow all that is yours upon me?" Makkar said nothing, but he rode off into the night and stayed away for several days. When he returned he brought to Hadil a small sandalwood box. In the box, nestled in silk scarves, were two crystal vials. "Hadil, I am sorry for doubting your love for me," Makkar said, presenting her with the box. "I have asked our Master to prepare the most precious gifts for you, but know that you may only choose one." "One? But there are two vials," Hadil said, running her fingertips over each of them in turn. One was blue and the other red. "The blue vial contains a potion which will ensure that you are always as beautiful on the outside as you are within," Makkar said. "The potion in the red vial will give you endless wealth." He bowed his head and added, "Choose wisely, Hadil, for your selection will affect you and your sisters." Hadil hesitated a moment, then made a decision. "I choose both!" Hadil cried greedily, removing the stopper of both vials and consuming their contents. She laughed, but her throat felt scratched and her voice had become hoarse. "You have poisoned me," she screeched. "You have poisoned yourself," Makkar said in disgust. He returned to his djinn form and vanished. Hadil clutched her throat, but to her horror her slender hand had grown claws. She ran from her tent. Wings stretched from her shoulders, catching in the doorway. She screamed when she saw that her sisters had all transformed as well. And so the harpies are as beautiful outside as they are within and they have endless wealth from the bodies of those they scavenge.